


SilverStar

by kinnoonnanoko



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Human Experimentation, Injury, Injury Recovery, Mild Gore, Panic Attacks, Self-Insert, tw for hojo, tw panick attack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinnoonnanoko/pseuds/kinnoonnanoko
Summary: Waking up after being kissed by Truck-kun was a nice surprise.Waking up in the body of a video game villain with a tragic past was NOT a nice surprise.Come on, Minerva! What do you want me to do? Dress in drag and do the Hula?"LUAU!"
Comments: 59
Kudos: 123





	1. Wake me up inside (I can't wake up)

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys, this is my first time actually writing something, so send any tips and constructive criticism my way.  
> I'd like to thank KlonoaDreams for enabling this idea and RinAstray for being a wonderful beta.

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I wake up with far too much light in the room for me to open my eyes without blinding myself. Though I should say I’m surprised I woke up at all, what with my last memory being of a speeding truck. Motherfucking irresponsible drivers, seriously, I hope somebody jotted his plate down for me to sue… Wait a minute… I’m not feeling anywhere near as much pain as I should if I was hit by a truck. Not even the right kind of pain for a high speed collision, just a lot of aching. Kinda like coming out of surgery. Well, I suppose I would need _some_ kind of surgery after that, but that’s not what I meant.

I hear footsteps all over the room, so at least there’s some medical professionals around for me to question a bit. Lots of talking from a single voice and a few “Yes, Professor.” in response, and _wow_ , mister Professor sounds like death is catching up with him… Wait a minute… Why are these people speaking english? I’m not in America _or_ England, or really, any other country that speaks english. Maybe they had to call in a foreign expert? _Oh God, how much is this shit gonna cost?_

Someone’s getting closer, probably mister Professor, and even his footsteps sound a bit sick. I don’t know how that’s possible, but it’s what I’m hearing. I try opening my eyes a bit, and _WOW_ OK, that was a mistake. A lesson was learned at the cost of my pulsing headache turning into _blistering agony_ , Jesus Christ why do they keep the lights so bright in a room with a convalescing person in it? It’s cruel and unusual punishment, I tell you.

Talking is another effort wasted. My throat is so fucking dry, the only thing that comes out is rib cracking coughs. One of the other people in the room comes over with a glass of water. If there is one medical professional you can count on it’s nurses, they’re the bes--- _BRWAFT GOOD GOD WHAT DO THEY PUT IN THE WATER HERE?!_ Not even chlorine will make the water taste like the death liquid they just gave me, what the fuck!

After my new coughing fit stops I sniff a bit to try to clear my sinuses and _UGH WHY?_ This does _not_ smell like a hospital. It stinks of death, disease and suffering. I _still_ don’t know how I know this, but it’s what my nose is telling me, and it’s only ever led me wrong when it’s time to guess what’s for lunch, so I’m inclined to believe it. Ugh, great, now I’m in pain _and_ sensitive to _everything_. Today is not a me day.

Mister Professor is talking but I think I zoned out for the first part so I try to tell him that in my considerably rusty english.

“Uh… I’m sorry, professor. Could you repeat that, please?”

_Uhhh_ … I might have chosen the wrong sequence of words, ‘cause mister Professor looks like someone just insulted everything he stands for. I’m reeling a bit as he starts on a rant that I only catch about 1 out of 3 words of, but I can tell he’s insulting and belittling me, which, _BITCH_ , whatever you did on my body probably wasn’t worth dealing with you.

Newly christened Professor Asshole is still going on a tirade as I tune him out and take stock of the room I’m in, now that my eyes have somewhat adjusted. A lot of blinding white and complicated looking machines, as expected of a hospital. Several tubes going in and out of me, which explains the particular discomfort those tend to cause. The people I’m assuming are nurses are just backing away from Professor Asshole and wincing frequently. Though now that I can actually see them and am paying attention, they’re not really dressed as nurses. More like lab assistants. Odd. Maybe it’s the norm in the place they brought me to?

I don’t have all that much time to ponder, as Professor Asshole hits a particularly painful high note and sends me into auditory agony, worsening my headache yet again. Did this fucker buy his degree in a black market or something?

As I’m clutching my ears in an attempt to block out all noise, I finally notice my hair. It's long. And _silver_. I had black hair in a pixie cut. Wa--Was I in a coma? I know my hair grows kinda fast, but the kind of length I’m seeing here would take, like, a decade. I _know_ because that’s how long it took last time I got a pixie cut and decided to grow it back to my waist. Also, _SILVER_? What the actual fuck?! And straight, too! My hair is supposed to be curly and cute, _what the fuck?_ _What the shit?_ I am _NOT_ old enough to get gray hair, and I _KNOW_ Marie Antoinette Syndrome doesn’t work like this.

Professor Asshole grabs me by the hair and shakes me violently, screaming.

“ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, BOY?!”

I don’t think, I just react. A clawed hand to his face has him releasing my hair and backing off, howling in pain and clutching at it. Some of the nurses(?) squeak and squawk but they all back away from both of us.

_What the fuck What The FuckWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCK!!!!!!_ The fucker _actually_ assaulted me?! What the fuck is his damage? And who in their right mind would let this jackass into a hospital?

One of the nurses(?) is trying to get my attention, and yeah, okay, but I'm not taking my eyes away from the piece of shit that attacked me, no sir, _nu-uh_. I signal to them that I’m listening and they start speaking.

“Listen to me. You need to calm down, Sephiroth.”

_*Record Scratch* What the fuck did they just call me?_ Se--Sephiroth? What the fuck? Actually, now that I’m not being assaulted, I notice something else weird. Professor Asshole called me “boy”. Which, _What In The Fresh Hell?_ Did these people seriously mistake a patient? Also, _Jesus_ , how long has it been, that people are naming their kids after _him_ of all characters? I’ve seen my share of Sasuke’s and Naruto’s, but last I knew, the remake had just come out, there’s no wa--- _Long, straight, silver hair. “Boy”. Greasy piece of shit professor. Nurses that look like lab assistants. A “hospital” that smells like death. Something is_ **_wrong_ ** _here._

I-- I need to check. I move my hand to my crotch and feel around.

_There is a whole lot more junk here than it’s supposed to._

_I sincerely hope gender dysphoria doesn’t hit too hard._

Okay. O-Kay. OKAY. _OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAYOKAY._ Deep breaths, deeeeeep breeeaaaths. There’s _A LOT_ to unpack in that, so let’s take it one piece at a time.

  1. I now have a penis. This is _supremely_ weird. Whether it’s uncomfortable or otherwise negative to my physical and mental health remains to be seen.
  2. My hair is now Long, Straight, and Silver. I got a pixie cut for a reason, and that reason is called practicality, but I’ve always loved long hair and now that it’s straight, it shouldn’t give me nearly as much trouble.
  3. I’m about as pale as it gets. At least I don’t look sickly, as I imagine Vincent would.
  4. My body is… Oddly small. _Child_ small. I was short, but not _this_ short. Also, skinny like a rather fit child, when I remember being noticeably overweight.
  5. Apparently, I’m now called Sephiroth. This is... _Severely_ worrying.



Any and all conclusions I’m getting from this are **_Not Optimal Whatsoever_ ** . The most likely scenario is that I actually died in that crash, got reincarnated as _A Video Game Villain_ , and am only getting my memories back now, after what I would assume is one of Professor Asshole/Hojo’s experiments.

_HOOOOO BOY. This is NOT gonna end well._ Did I offend Minerva? Is that what happened? Because this can only be divine punishment for a grave crime. I--- Shit, I wanna cry. I hate crying in front of people. I _DO NOT_ want to cry in front of _THESE PEOPLE IN PARTICULAR._ I gotta do something else. Say something. Something to get them to back off.

What comes out instead, is an insult.

“Don’t you fucking touch me, you brainless failed abortion.”

Great. Now everyone is looking at me like I just threatened to slaughter their entire families. So not called for. If anything, they should be directing those looks at Professor Dipshit for assaulting a child. Speaking of him, Hojo looks so very _incensed_ right now. Shit, he’s gonna come at me again, isn’t he? All right, Okay. Gotta try and go for the family jewels, and if I can’t reach those, the throat is just as good a target. If I’m in Sephiroth’s body now, then I should have enough raw strength to maul a person if needed, regardless of this body’s current age.

Hojo gets up and gingerly removes his hand from his face, allowing me to finally see just how much damage I did to it. There’s a good amount of blood, especially from what I’m assuming is a broken nose. A few cuts from my nails, but none that are serious. Now I’m wishing I had put more strength behind that hit.

He reaches into a tray filled with instruments and pulls out a syringe. Probably some kind of heavy duty sedative. Well fuck, I can’t move all that much with all these tubes stuck in me, so I’ll probably only have one chance at this.

“What are you imbeciles doing standing around gawking? Restrain the specimen!”

Well shit, there goes my chance. The assistants all close in on me with a chorus of “Yes, Professor!” and start grabbing and pinning me down. I try buckling up in their grip, but those tubes _hurt_ , not to mention I’m still sore as all hell from whatever they did to me before I woke up. Hojo comes closer and closer and I can already tell this is gonna suck harder than a porn star.

“This will teach you not to backtalk your betters, you insolent child.”

With those ominous words and the prick of a needle in my neck, I fade back to black.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


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……………

The next time I wake up, Hojo isn’t in the room, which is a huge relief, and most of the tubes seem to have been removed. Still a bit sore overall, but much better. A few wires to read my vitals too, but those are only an issue when they get tangled, so nothing to worry about.

I continue feigning sleep and focus on listening to the area around me. There’s only one set of footsteps, matched by a single breathing pattern so I feel confident in assuming there’s only one assistant in the room with me. There’s a lot of machine humming too, but that’s expected by now.

With nothing else to do that wouldn’t put my safety at risk, I start trying to feel around myself and making sure all of my nervous terminations are in working order. A twitch of the fingers and toes reassures me that my mobility is as intact as it’s going to get. Now to see about that fine muscle control. Slowly closing and opening my hands, followed by flexing each finger and toe separately gives me an adequate response.

Alright, everything in this body seems to be in working order, next up in the To-Do list is analyzing my current predicament, making a list of priorities, and deciding which actions to take, so let’s take it from the top.

  * I have been reincarnated into the world of Final Fantasy VII as the main villain, Sephiroth, and now that I’m not in immediate danger of Hojo or panicking in any way, I notice that I actually have access to Original Sephiroth’s memories in this body.
  * Seph seems to be 10 or so years old, and his life so far has been a rather depressing routine of studying, training, and being experimented on by Hojo. Poor kid, no wonder he was such a socially awkward disaster.
  * Considering Sephiroth’s age was only ever given as an approximation, that only marginally helps me in keeping track of the timeline. My best bet would probably be getting info on Professor Gast and whether or not he already disappeared, and if so, how long has it been, since I know for a fact that Aerith is 22-23 during the core game.
  * I should also make sure who exactly is the Turk commander right now, since I definitely want to be in their good graces. Let’s hope Veld got that promotion so I can milk our connection to Vincent for all it’s worth.
  * Getting info on the Wutai War is also important. It’s never specified when it started, just that Sephiroth gained his fame by fighting in it, and if I remember correctly, it’s what originally catches the attention of Genesis and Angeal.
  * Another person of interest is Lazard Deusericus. From what I remember, he was a particularly competent and charismatic man with actual morals, even if he hid his hatred for Shin-Ra behind it. He’s definitely someone I want on my side.
  * Reeve Tuesti is another one I want to keep a lookout for, since he’s one of the only people in a position of power in Shin-Ra with a moral backbone, even if that power is more symbolic than anything. Also, Cait Sith was cute.



With these points in mind, I start making a list of priorities. Top of the list, of course, is getting rid of Hojo and all those who idolize him. Finding Fuhito will be a bit of a hassle, but it should be worth it, especially if I can lead Veld to Elfé/Felicia. Nothing like heartwarming family reunions, especially when they uncover dirt on a person you want to get rid of.

Next up on the chopping block is Hollander and his Project G bullshit. Gen’ and 'Geal are messed up enough without his meddling. Getting his notes on how the degradation works and what can be done to either slow it down or, hopefully, stopping it cold, is on that list as well.

Aerith and Ifalna are definitely getting saved if I have a say in it. If I can’t make it in time to save Ifalna for whatever reason, I’m definitely making sure Aerith is kept safe from Hojo, if not the Turks. If I can find some way to adopt her, that would be great. Little sister for the win.

Getting Vincent out of that basement early is another good idea. He’s already gone through enough suffering in his life, there’s no need to prolong that. That being said, I’m still not convinced Hojo is the father, I don’t care how drop dead gorgeous Lucrecia was, there’s no way in hell Sephiroth can grow up to be _that_ pretty if he had Hojo’s genes, therefore, Vincent is the dad and that’s the version I’m sticking to for the rest of my time as Seph.

Offing Jenova is one more thing to worry about. Her Hivemind powers are genuinely terrifying and _not_ something I want to deal with, especially since I seem to be particularly susceptible to it. The best course of action I can see is giving Vincent the supplies and asking him to blow up her carcass into space. It shouldn’t be too hard to get heavy duty explosives from Scarlet if I butter her up by complimenting her work in weapons development.

That’s all as far as I can remember, which is good because it seems the assistant finally noticed I’m actually awake. They come closer and I open my eyes slightly, startling them. They pause for a second, then proceed to check on my vitals and all the machines hooked up to me. This assistant in particular seems to be a younger lady, maybe in her mid to late twenties. She looks uncomfortable with something, though I don’t know exactly what yet. Hopefully she’s upset with Hojo’s treatment of me and not myself in particular.

I continue observing her while she does her job and, _boy_ , my eyesight is infinitely better this time around. No more myopia and astigmatism for me, I’ll finally be able to see beyond my fucking nose.

I keep looking at Miss Assistant with what I hope are innocent doe-eyes to try and see if I can break her with the sheer cuteness inherent in baby animals. To my relief and delight, it works. She keeps glancing from her charts and machines to me and back again, each time seeming more distraught and conflicted until eventually, she squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds and heaves a large sigh. She looks at me with mild determination and slowly reaches out towards my head, lightly patting my hair and whispering soft words of comfort.

I lean into her touch a bit to show I appreciate her attempts at consoling me, and prepare the next step in my plan to get as many people around here on my corner, trying my best to sound hesitant.

“M--Miss? ...Did anyone get...in trouble because of me?...”

_Score!_ Her eyes widen and she comes closer, trying to bundle me up as much as she can and I let her, curling up into her body as she reassures me that “No, sweetheart, don’t worry, no one got in trouble,” and “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, honey.”

My face is a mask of downtrodden worry, while my mind is a rictus of cheering for a job well done. One person down, however many more to go, and I will stop at nothing to get as many people here under my thumb as I can. I was dealt the lemons, time to make lemonade and, if I can, maybe a mousse.

She goes about removing the remaining tubes from me, which while embarrassing, is incredibly appreciated. The water she gives me this time is far less offensive to my senses, thankfully. Still has a weird taste, but it’s bearable.

I thank Miss Assistant for being nice to me, subtly mentioning I didn’t know hugs could be that warm, which makes her tear up a little. She promises me she’ll bring softer and warmer covers to make me feel a little better. I thank her and give her a bit of an ominous warning.

“Hey, miss… I don’t think you should mention any of this to Professor Hojo… The last time someone disagreed with him about me, I never saw them again.”

She looks a little paler and more worried, so I think I managed to get the point across. She reassures me that this will be a secret between the two of us and I respond to that with a bit of a shy smile.

“I need to go right now, sweetheart, but I promise I’m gonna come back with lots of nice things for you, okay?”

I respond with my best “shy but happy” smile, thank her, and bid her goodbye. Boy, am I thankful for those acting stunts my high school arts teacher sprung up on us. As short as they were, they actually helped, who would have thought.

With Miss Assistant gone from the room, my next order of business is making sure the rest of my body is working properly. Namely, standing and walking. With the tubes finally gone (God bless Miss Assistant for removing that fucking catheter, that was horrible) I finally have some freedom of movement.

I slowly slide down the bed to make sure my legs can support my weight. _Score again!_ They can, so I shift around, testing my balance and checking if everything is in place and fits comfortably. No complaints so far, so I move onto slow and small steps. No need to try running and risk fucking something up.

Slow and steady seems to win the race, so I just continue with similar exercises until I know for certain my body can handle itself. The wires from the machines get in the way sometimes, but it’s nothing changing positions can’t solve, so no worries there.

After a thorough stretch and warm up, I’m glad to say my entire body feels okay, if not really _mine_. The new crotch bits are gonna take me some time to adjust to, but what can you do?

Someone unlocks the door and I’m caught by surprise, having forgotten that the machines reading my vitals obviously registered my exercises as heightened activity and alerted someone in charge. I try to look as innocent as possible, there’s no need to lie. I was just checking if my body was responding appropriately after the recent procedure, there’s nothing stupid or inconsequential about that. Just keep calm and carry on. Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let it show.

The person that comes through the door is a whole new assistant, an older man this time; he takes notice of me standing by the bed and asks what happened.

“I was checking if my body was responding properly after the recent procedure, sir. I forgot about the vital readings, I’m sorry.” I respond with some decorum and bow my head slightly, showing some respect and, hopefully, getting in his good graces.

He makes a sound between a sigh and a scoff and moves closer to me, asking if I still needed to do something out of bed. I respond with a quick “Bathroom.” and head there swiftly. Time to figure out the new bits. Thankfully I have _some_ idea of how this is supposed to work, but it’s still touch and go ( _snort_ ) for a little bit there. Success is had, and I return to the room proper after washing up.

Mister Assistant seems to have been waiting patiently for my return, which I’m thankful for, since I probably took a bit more time than necessary in there. He moves to help me back up into the bed and starts reattaching the wires I had to take off for my little trip.

While he’s doing that, I observe him closely. I want to know what makes him tick. He seemed a bit put off at first but watching him now, it looks more like somewhat fond exasperation. That’s good, I can work with that. I ask if I’m allowed any food yet and he answers with a forcedly gruff “Not yet. Still a couple more hours to go.” and I nod in return.

“May I know about my immediate schedule, sir?” I ask him and he sighs a little, but I notice a twitch on the corner of his mouth, _Definitely fond exasperation_ and he gives me a quick summary of today’s activities. I thank him and he stands up and puts his hands on his hips, pausing for a moment. I’m caught by surprise when he pats me on the head and just gruffs out a “Just stay out of trouble, kid,” after which he turns to leave.

...Well. That happened. That particular “Just stay out of trouble” is probably about my earlier reaction to Hojo being an asshole right after I woke up, so _that_ information has already gone around. Well, what’s done is done, there’s nothing to do about it anymore, just gotta read how everyone acts around the two of us and go from there.

According to Mister Assistant, who I’m starting to think has kids of his own, Hojo will be busy for the next few hours at least and my memories say none of the assistants can do anything without him in here to see it first hand, so I should be free for a good while. Unfortunately, I don’t feel _nearly_ safe enough to sleep here, so I need to find something else to occupy my time. Luckily, I have enough hair to braid, and quite a few memories of helping out my older cousin get her daughters’s hair done that I think I can do something interesting without tangling it beyond hope.

The braiding goes well enough and distracts me from both the passage of time and the emotional void of finally realizing that this is it. This is my life now and I’ll probably never go back. Even if I had quite a lot of trouble forming emotional attachments because of crippling depression, this shit still hurts, yo. I let the drops fall down as they please, since trying to stop them never did me any good. The emotion will pass as it always does and then it’s time to move on.

The hours pass and I braid and rebraid my hair into what I hope are several cute shapes. It all culminates in a rather messy braided bun that pulls a bit in a few places. Bleh, this is getting boring. I wipe my face with the bed-sheets, now that the tears have stopped and try to decide what else I can do to stave off the boredom… Maybe singing? I’ve always loved music, so maybe that’ll work.

I start out by humming the intro to the song currently bouncing in my head, gradually moving onto the lyrics as I remember them properly.

_“I'll be the roundabout_

_The words will make you out 'n' out_

_I spend the day your way_

_Call it morning driving thru the sound and in and out the valley_

_The music dance and sing_

_They make the children really ring_

_I spend the day your way_

_Call it morning driving thru the sound and in and out the valley_

_In and around the lake_

_Mountains come out of the sky and they stand there_

_One mile over we'll be there and we'll see you_

_Ten true summers we'll be there and laughing too_

_Twenty four before my love you'll see I'll be there with you”_

I bounce around to the rhythm of one of the grooviest hits in history, followed by a few others, and do my best to forget the world around me. It works pretty well, as some 10 songs later the door opens again and Mister Dad(?) Assistant comes in with a tray of somewhat bland looking foodstuffs. He stops dead at the sight of me and stares for a bit.

...What? What’s wrong? He doesn’t look upset but that’s still worrying. Is something wrong with my face? Does it look like I cried that much? Maybe it--- Ah… The hair. I only just notice the slightly uncomfortable braided bun I never bothered to unmake and move to do so, but Mister Assistant unfreezes and comes over to stop my hands in the middle of it.

He deposits the tray on the side table and moves to help me undo the mess on top of my head. His hands are slow and delicate with it, further proof that he has experience in dealing with such things. Probably has a daughter. I thank him after it’s done and he looks at me with a soft expression. A moment passes and he softly ruffles my hair and says with some amount of seriousness.

“Just don’t let the Professor see it. Otherwise, it should be okay, kiddo.”

I look up at him and try to convey as much understanding and seriousness as I can. Mister Dad Assistant just gave me advice that could actually save my sanity, if not my life. I nod and thank him for it, making him sigh/scoff and he passes me the tray. The stuff in here looks just as bland up close, but I can’t do anything but deal with it. If I had to guess, Mister Dad Assistant already got me the least bland “food” he could. It goes down without external complaints, but I can feel my soul cry a bit at what I'm tasting, or _not_ tasting, really.

Mister Dad Assistant updates me on the situation outside of my room and to my delight, it seems Hojo has been stuck in medical this whole time. Looks like I did a number on the fucker and it’s gonna leave _glorious_ scars. _HA! Not even materia could save your fugly mug, asshole!_ To my further relief, it seems this has caused my schedule to be altered. Since the dipshit won’t be able to come perform more tests and watch like the creepy fucker he is, it means I’m free for the day and being allowed back into my proper rooms. Also, apparently I’ve been out for 3 whole hours after that first time, so that explains the hunger and thirst I felt after waking up again.

He takes me back to my actual room and makes a pit stop at the kitchens to drop off the tray and I quietly thank the universe for the short tour of the facilities. I pay attention to _everything_ as much as I can and am so very grateful that this body’s memory retention seems to be up to par. An entire life of what I tended to call _“goldfish memory”_ makes me truly appreciate being able to remember things that I actually _need_ instead of useless trivia.

The kitchens/cafeteria are only somewhat occupied by what seems to be a majority of people I’m imagining are paper pushers, a few scattered beautifully tailored blue suits, who are obviously Turks, and a small number of seemingly genetically altered people, which leads me to believe the SOLDIER program has only just started to show actual results outside of myself. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to memorize faces as my good natured companion finishes his business here and continues leading me to our destination.

The rest of the trip is uneventful and we don’t pass through any other interesting places. Mister Dad Assistant leaves me in front of my room with a final hair ruffle and tells me to take care of myself. I thank him for his time, as the polite little kid I’m pretending to be and watch him walk off deeper into the building.

With that, I open the door to my room and start investigating, searching for anything Original Seph’s child mind didn’t know was important to take note of. It’s a tidy, somewhat bare room, though there are books in abundance and on a wide variety of topics, most of them having already been read and their contents cataloged into Seph’s malleable baby brain. At least the basics are already covered so I can cross one thing off my list of needs going forward.

After rummaging around, I only really find a couple of listening devices, one in the bedroom and one in the attached lounge area, but no cameras of any kind. I don’t really mess with them for now, since I don’t want to alert anyone that I know more than what I’m supposed to, just make notes of where exactly they are.

Next up on my plans is a shower, as I don’t remember having taken one since even before the experiment that woke me up. As is the way of nature, warm water is a balm for the soul and helps loosen the muscles I didn’t even realize were _this_ tense. I make use of Seph’s muscle memory on the hair and bits washing department, since I haven’t had experience with one in almost 10 years and the other in _never_ , but everything ends up being pretty methodical and soon I’m as clean and fresh as I can hope to be.

Hair care is next and, while this one isn’t as soft as I’m used to, it’s still _so very silky_ , every time I try combing or brushing, it just _glides through_ as if there was nothing in there in the first place. This is a somewhat new experience, as I tended to straighten my hair when it was long, but it never got _this_ fine. All that envy I had over how practical naturally straight hair is just went away in a flash and I’m left a bit deflated and lost.

_So many possibilities… So many hairstyles and accessories I couldn’t use before are now in arms reach… I shall be_ **_BEAUTIFUL_ ** _._

The realization brings me a newfound goal and some measure of peace at having found something to focus on besides my current predicament. Soon enough I lose myself imagining the countless combinations and outfits I could use to be the absolutely most gorgeous I could possibly be. I can say goodbye to all the previous obstacles, such as incompatible body type, lack of funds, impractical weather, and other nuisances. _I can finally be the fabulous Goth Lolita I’ve always wanted to._

Motivation fills me and I turn to a small personal computer that I remember being in the bedroom to see if I can find something interesting in this world’s version of the internet. Thankfully, it’s not a completely closed system, even if it _is_ heavily blocked in regards to the content I can access and somewhat reminiscent of the primitive earlier stages of the one I’m accustomed to. While I can’t seem to get any news feed that isn’t Shin-Ra’s own, I’m still allowed an impressive array of study materials, as I’m sure I’ll need in the future. Beauty stuff is, to my delight, fully available.

As I completely immerse myself in a binge, time passes without my notice and soon enough there is a ping from some kind of intercom, followed by a reminder that it’s dinnertime, followed soon by a bedtime curfew. I close everything on my browser and shut down the computer before heading out of my room. Outside, I see Mister Dad Assistant coming over to escort me to the cafeteria and I follow him obediently.

One thing I’ve taken notice of is that most people I’ve seen so far don’t wear any kind of personal identification. No badges, no name cards, or at least nothing I can see. In fact, there’s not many people Seph knows by name, now that I’m paying attention. Mister Dad Assistant has been in charge of the kid for the past year or so, but the only thing I know about him is that he is particularly patient and tolerant. He’s been teaching Seph little things here and there. Basic stuff that a parent would go through with a child, and yet his name is still an enigma.

Time to change that.

“Sir?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“I’ve noticed that I haven’t learned your name yet. Mine is Sephiroth, may I know yours?”

He lifts an eyebrow at me and observes for a moment, but answers anyway.

“Liam Madsen, kid.”

“It’s nice to meet you properly, Mister Madsen. Please continue to take care of me.” I respond, politely and courteously, trying to seem cute. It works, as I see that little twitch on his mouth increase in frequency and I smile the rest of the way to the cafeteria at a job well done.

Dinner is a bit more lively than my last visit, with more people from just about every department mingling about and updating each other on company gossip. It’s a little much for me to focus on everything at once, so I try to locate the Turks and see if I can eavesdrop a little. Unfortunately, the hustle and bustle of the cafeteria is a little too loud and omnipresent for me to focus on them, so I just resign myself to observing the general populace.

After a few minutes, Mister Madsen comes back with the customary two trays of the day’s special and keeps me company for the meal. To my pleasant surprise, the food is actually palatable this time around, so I huddle up and try to enjoy it as much as I can while Mister Madsen updates me on the day’s happenings. Most things don’t really deviate from the norm, though he gives me some info on the assistants that will be on my shift for tomorrow. No names this time either, but some physical descriptions. One with red hair and one with large glasses. I think I can remember both of them and they seem generally okay people, though Glasses seems to be on the dry and permanently tired side.

After the meal I’m escorted back to my quarters and on the way there I make another move. I reach out with my left hand to grab and hold his right. He envelops my hand seemingly on instinct and doesn’t realize it for quite a few minutes. When he _does_ , though, he gives a quick twitch and pauses for a half-second before lightly squeezing my hand and forging onwards. _Scooore~~♪ Point for my cute little tyke powers._

Mister Madsen _does_ catch me by surprise when we arrive, as he pulls the hand he’s holding and pries it open, depositing in it something he pulls out from his lab coat pocket. It’s about the size of my palm, lightweight, and wrapped in plastic. He gives me another soft little pat on the head and leaves me with a somewhat stern reminder to brush my teeth before bed.

After he disappears from sight and I enter my room, I examine the item he’s given me and am a little stunned to find it’s something that looks an awful lot like an Alfajor. Opening the plastic reveals it also smells like a mix of cookie dough, chocolate, honey, and the milky delight that is _doce de leite_ , proving that this is, indeed, an Alfajor. I stare at it for a few seconds and enjoy the _marvelous_ aroma before nibbling on it and _OOF_ … If I ever needed further proof that my senses were enhanced, this was it. I can feel that little tell mass produced sweets usually have and it’s slightly dry, but overall this is flavor heaven.

_Mister Madsen, I would take a fucking bullet for you._

I can’t resist doing a little wiggle at the rush of delicious sugar in my system and, _boy_ , this body _needed_ that. You can’t keep a child on a ridiculously strict diet of bland lab paste, they’re gonna riot sooner or later and then it’s your funeral.

I head into the lounge area and make myself comfortable on the little couch to relax and _take my sweet fucking time appreciating this beautiful gift_ , since my new memories tell me this is a fucking rare treat indeed. I end up losing my mind to a weird little chant of _sugar sugar sugar sugar sugar SWEETS SWEETS_ that now refuses to go away.

As I finish my dessert and go fulfill my hygienic needs, my sanity seems to return and my thoughts go down on a darker tone. I need to get rid of Hojo as fast as possible. I only got a tiny bit of a personal taste of his particular brand of bullshit earlier today, and the memories from this body only reinforce the knowledge that **_I am not safe here_ **. He needs to go and it needs to be soon. Question is: How do I do it while making it look like an accident?

Though he sometimes comes to watch my training sessions, it’s not always and very rarely does he stick close. The only times I can be certain he will be there are the experiments and subsequent check ups. Also to both my relief and _increasing discomfort_ , even with the fact that Seph _has indeed_ acted out in self defense before, the fucker _still keeps_ **_coming CLOSE_ **. The best thing I can think of at the moment is to intentionally go for the throat with as much power as possible and squeeze and crush it beyond hope. Thanks to the studying material available, I know that even high leveled healing materia has its limits, I just need to make sure what I do goes past it.

With that thought in my head and teeth brushed, I retired for the night in hopes of getting _some_ amount of sleep. I knew that regardless of how safe or comfortable I was here, I was gonna need it for tomorrow.

My new body’s routine did not disappoint.


	2. Hello darkness, my old friend (I've come to talk with you again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, many thanks to KlonoaDreams for enabling me, and RinAstray for beta-ing.  
> This chapter features Seph having a panic attack, so if you're uncomfortable reading this sort of thing, it both starts and ends with Bold and Italics, and it's only one paragraph long, so you can skip it.

The next morning is uneventful, as far as I can tell.

This body is used to waking up at the ass crack of dawn, so there’s no use in trying to sleep in. The red haired assistant comes to pick me up and takes me to the cafeteria for breakfast. She tells me Professor Hojo will be supervising some tests today, so I guess I’ll see how much uglier I made him. I hope it’s a lot.

I’m led to a room with a man that looks like he could use some sleep. The poor thing has bags under his eyes the size of dinner plates and tired, saggy skin. This is my math teacher, Mr. Bajorski, owner of a most brilliant mind and kind heart, brought down by overwork, little pay and merciless employers. Teachers really are sad sods, regardless of the universe.

“Good morning, Mr. Bajorski. It’s good to see you again.” I announce myself politely and move to take the chair across from him, while Miss Red assistant leaves us to our studies. He turns to give me a tired but warm smile that just makes the stress lines on his face more prominent.

“Good morning, Sephiroth. How was your week?” He asks me with a quiet tone, as if talking is strenuous enough. It just makes me want to bundle him up in a hundred soft blankets with hot chocolate and his family forever. Plus a puppy. And soft, calming music. You get my point.

“It was as usual. No particular incidents, except for yesterday. Though I would argue that was more an accident.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard of it. You’ve never been a violent child, so I’m inclined to believe your side of the story.”

Oh, so there are sides already? Lovely. Though not unexpected. I should probably keep an eye out.

The lesson proceeds smoothly and, seriously, I wish I’d had teachers this good back before. Though I get the feeling Seph’s brain is fairly better wired than my old one. The subjects are advanced and I’m still keeping up, despite my mind insisting that this is too hard to focus on. Gotta love that learned behavior of hating math and studying in general. At least Mr. Bajorski seems happy that I’m absorbing the knowledge so well.

Soon enough, three whole hours have passed and I’m left reeling a bit from the amount of information he managed to pack into my brain, and how in the world did I not realize how much time had passed. That man has real talent, I tell you. Miss Red comes to pick me up and hands me a bag of dried fruits as a snack. I thank her and she gives me a slightly strained smile.

Miss Red has kept at a fair distance the whole day. Has _always_ kept a distance, really. She’s definitely unnerved by _something_. Maybe I should wait with this one.

Next stop is what I’m assuming is the gym. The teacher doesn’t seem to be here just yet, so I take the extra time to get my equipment ready, stretch and warm up. If memory serves me well, today is hand to hand day with Mr. Krane. And Mr. Krane does not like slackers. Or children. Why the fuck did he take the job then? Probably the money. Shin-Ra is likely willing to pay for only the best to ensure their super weapon is competent.

He arrives only a few minutes after that and levels me with a neutral stare that almost verges on a scowl. I try to remain passive and obedient through the lesson, as he grabs and throws me with not nearly as much care as he should. Not that he’s not teaching. He is... he’s just an unrepentant asshole. Which really doesn't work in my favor, because I can feel my temper boil, and the more tired and hurt I get, the harder it will be for me to keep it in check. Oh, the enhancements on my body make it far more durable and the pain is subdued, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything, or that this is any less ridiculous.

I manage to get through it with only vicious scowling, but it’s a very close thing. I can feel so many bruises, and most of them are already healing, as far as I can tell. It’s both impressive and scary how much the Jenova cells can do. I hit the showers and from there, we go to the cafeteria again for lunch proper. After that…

After that it’s the labs. That check up I missed is gonna happen now, it seems.

I feel the dread take root immediately, turning my tongue and limbs into lead, and both muddling and clearing my mind at once. There are several people in the room, but I can only focus on one. Hojo has bandages around his head, and when he turns to look at me, I can see medical tape holding some of the cuts together. It’s… it’s ugly, not gonna lie. I did a _lot_ of cosmetic damage. There’s two long, uninterrupted cuts running diagonally from his right brow to his mouth, bracketed on each side by a thinner and shorter cut, that tapers off and starts back up at odd intervals. Under all of that, his nose is a massive, deformed bruise. Not only that, the bruising spreads to the right cheekbone, and that eye is bandaged.

The left eye, the one still in working order… is staring at me with what I can only describe as _seething, unadulterated hatred._

I feel ice form in my heart and spread through my veins. I feel both impossibly heavy and completely weightless. Moving feels like it should be easy, but my body refuses my commands. It feels like…

**_I’m going to die._ **

My mind is filled with static as they move and prod me into position on the table, all on his command. There’s no escaping this. I feel the taste of metal in my mouth, even though it’s empty. My hands and feet are sweaty, I can’t wipe them. They’re putting needles and tubes in me. It hurts. It _hurts_ . He’s talking, I can’t understand him, there’s too much static. The needles inject something and it _burns_ . Don’t scream. Don’t scream. If you scream it’ll only be worse. It’ll hurt more if you complain. If you cry he’ll _give you something to cry about. Just be a good girl for once in your life._ **_Can’t you do anything right, you useless fuck up? JUST SHUT UP! SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!_ **

  
  


I scream.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The rest of the day is an acid trip and a half. Pretty much all of my nerves are _raw_ , so just existing has me at my wit’s end. Even my teeth are on edge. I can feel every layer of fabric, the texture of everything is just _wrong_ . All around, just sensory overload hell. When Red takes me back to my room, hours later, I can only take the quickest shower possible, flop onto the bed, and try to forget the world exists. I can’t even get up when Glasses comes over to get me for dinner. He ends up bringing me a tray with food, but I can’t finish it because _my teeth fucking hurt_. Falling asleep is a trial, and takes way too long for my tastes, but it does happen eventually.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


My third day in this hell world that is Gaia starts with me whimpering from the _motherfucking splitting headache I just woke up with_ . Holy mother of _fuck, why was I born?_ Worst of all, my usual tactic of sleeping the pain away won’t work, since this body refuses to fall back asleep. Still, I stay in bed, immobile, for as long as I can, since it’s the only thing I _can_ do that doesn’t make it worse somehow.

My respite is short lived, however, as the door opens and in comes Red, carrying a tray of breakfast and looking at me like I’m gonna bite her. I just… I don’t have enough _anything_ in my system to even begin bothering with it, I just try to flop back down without hurting myself.

As I’m soon to discover, it’s a useless effort. It hurts just the same, and Red, skittish as she is around me, won’t take no for an answer. I sit up as much as I can, and try to eat. At least my teeth don’t hurt anymore, so eating my fill isn’t an issue. What comes after is.

I go to slide down from the bed, only for my legs to buckle under me with no warning whatsoever. It’s, admittedly, a rather spectacular faceplant. I can feel nearly all of my bones reverberating from the impact, but the worst of them all is my head. It hurts almost as much as what that _braindead neanderthal_ did to me yesterday, if in a different way. In fact, I think I blacked out for a hot second there, as the next thing I know, I’m laying on my back, looking up, and Red is over me, looking stricken.

I blink up at her, slow and lethargic, because that’s just about all I can do. My brain is blank, static filled mush, and all I can feel is the soul-deep pain of _why am I even alive_.

I barely even notice the tears welling up, just the discomfort when they slide down to my ears. I don’t really pay attention to much of anything after that, only having a vague feeling of being lifted and carried, passed around, and put down on a bed. The world starts to blend into a blur as the apathy sets in and hooks its claws in me. I instantly feel complete and utter _disgust_ towards it. I _absolutely hate it_ when the apathy comes, it feels like the depression is taking back control over me, and I _NEVER WANT THAT TO HAPPEN AGAIN_ … But I can’t stop it this time. There’s no energy left for anything, especially not for fighting back. So this time… This time it wins, and I lose myself in the blank, empty void of dissociation.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


I am aware again, all at once. I’m in a different room altogether, its sparse and low lighting a blessing to my strained everything. There’s no one else around, so I take my time observing my surroundings. Aside from the one I’m on, there’s several other simple beds, with simple, white curtains between each, a somewhat long desk and accompanying chair, several cabinets and medical posters lining the walls. I guess it’s safe to say this is an infirmary of some kind. _At least it’s not the labs_. Thanks, brain, I wanted to forget that clusterfuck ever happened.

There’s nothing else _to_ do, so I count my blessings and try to fall asleep and ignore the world around me. I manage.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


When I finally wake up, it’s to a nurse taking my temperature and vitals. Sweet looking lady, all around, and nice enough to speak to me slowly and quietly.

“Hello, Sephiroth. It’s me, nurse Lyndsay. Can you tell me how you feel?”

“...My head hurts a little, but it’s a lot better now. And my body is a little sore. And my nose, too… My whole face, actually.”

She smiles, but her pretty pink lips twitch like she’s holding back laughter. I don’t blame her.

“I see. Do you remember how you got here, dear?”

“... I… I woke up with a nasty headache… The lady in charge of me had to bring me breakfast because I couldn’t get out of bed… I… tried to get up, but… I fell… on my face…”

I lower my head in seeming embarrassment, and will myself to blush slightly. It pays off, as her smile widens and the twitching intensifies. She’s still nice enough to hold it in, so I’ll give her props for that.

“Hm. Seems your memories are in order, then. But yes, the pain and discomfort you’re feeling right now are mostly from the fall you took. Are you still feeling the headache?”

“Yes. It’s a lot better now, but it’s still here.” She smiles and nods in understanding.

“Alright, sweetheart, I’m gonna give you a mild pain-killer for that. Do you know where it might have come from?”

She stands and turns to the cabinets, rummaging around, and eventually pulls a little glass bottle. She gets a pill from it, puts it back, and turns to a mini fridge I hadn’t seen yet, pulling a water bottle and plastic cups from it. I obediently take the medicine when she offers it to me and, _wow_ , I did not notice I was this thirsty. I ask for a refill and she just smiles and and does so while I formulate my answer in my head.

“... It… It started yesterday… during the--” I cut off, completely unintentionally this time, no drama. I’m still shaken from it, probably will be for a good while yet. “...D-during the c-check up with Pr--Professor Hojo…” I fish quietly, this time both from nerves and for the dramatics.

Nurse Lyndsay stills and looks at me for a long moment, before slowly reaching out and pulling me into a hug. This is the moment where the first big psychological difference between _Me_ and _Sephiroth_ shows itself.

Sephiroth likes being held by people he trusts when he feels vulnerable. _I hate it_ . I don’t even like being in the presence of other people when I’m vulnerable. Something that feels like forgotten childhood trauma rears its ugly head and _snarls in vicious distrust_ . Showing anyone weakness of any kind feels _wrong_ and like a _personal failure_.

But this is Seph’s body, for all that I’m piloting, and Nurse Lyndsay is close enough to him that she would notice if something fundamental like that changed all of a sudden. So I hold that instinct in, and hug her back the best I can.

It takes several minutes, but I manage to calm down, even if I feel stiff and prickly the whole time. And she seems to notice it, too.

“Sephiroth, what’s wrong?” Shit. Time to make my sales pitch.

“... I-- I don’t-- H-- He did… _something_ … It hurt so much… It-- Hugging doesn’t feel g-good anymore…” _Nailed it._ Shut up brain, you’re not helping.

Nurse Lyndsay looks… upset. I know there’s something beyond it, but I’m either not catching it, or I don’t recognize it well enough to know what it is. Either way, she _does not_ look happy.

“...I see…” _That’s debatable at the best of times, honey._ Shut. Up. Brain. “It’s almost time for lunch, so maybe you should eat now, and then you can go back to your room, with express orders from medical to _stay in and not be disturbed_. Does that sound good?”

My brain stalls for a few seconds because… is this woman an angel? How is a human being so wonderful and perfect? If no one puts a ring on her by the time I’m eighteen, I’m doing it. But I can’t exactly say this right now, so I just give her the most grateful smile I can manage.

“Yes, Miss Lyn. That would be _wonderful_.”

She gives me a kiss on the forehead, closes the curtains around my bed, and moves to the interphone on the wall, calling for someone to bring a tray of food to the infirmary. It takes some ten-twenty minutes for someone to arrive with it, deliver it to Lyndsay, and go back to their business. I have my meal in silence, while listening to her doing some paperwork, and when I’m finished, she calls for my caretaker currently on shift to pick me up, and relays her orders precisely, making sure there are no misunderstandings.

While Red is still uncomfortable with me, she does still move to steady me when I wobble and stumble on our way to my room. Though I notice her looks at me are more cautious and concerned than frightened, now. Guess seeing a kid take a dead faint right in front of you breaks some misconceptions. Doesn’t make me feel any better for showing weakness in front of her. I’m still polite, and thank her and bid her goodbye when we arrive. Somehow, she looks even more conflicted by that. Wonder what’s her deal.

The rest of my day is spent resting until I finally feel human again, and even when I do, relaxing suits me just fine. The less I have to think about yesterday, the better. I go back to looking for beauty tips and tutorials, and soon enough, I’m trying all sorts of hairstyles. Braids and buns are my favorites, and I wish I could do that rose shaped bun by myself, that thing is beautiful beyond measure. When I exhaust the amount of beauty I can produce today, I leave my hair in a simple, but cute braid, grab a book about materia, and move to get comfortable to read on the couch.

While the book is far more detailed than what the wikis had back before, the information here is still somewhat limited. This book in particular is about the different types of materia and what exactly they can do, and listing the spells they allow people to cast. I wonder how hard dual casting is, especially without the W-Magic materia. If anyone would be able to do it, it would probably be Sephiroth and Genesis, what with one being an all around combat super genius, and the other an archetypal spellblade. Which brings to mind the possibility of independent materia having long term effect on the body, even when not equipped. It might be a long shot, but the thought of an HP-UP, or MP-UP either increasing or decreasing my possible growth is both interesting and terrifying at the same time.

I’m brought out of my musings by a knock on the door, followed by Gasses coming in with a food tray. Must be dinner time, then. He has a mostly neutral expression, not having to be stuck to my side his whole shift must have given him some time to do his own studies. Ah, the life of a Broke-Ass College Student, I don’t miss you at all. When he turns to look at me I don’t even have to try to look Tired and Miserable, I just _am_. He takes a look at me and _nods_ in understanding.

_Huh…_ Word must have gone around about my black out. Also, I look like _shit_ , and if there’s anything a college student truly understands, it’s the soul-sucking hell of pleading “ _No more, please_ ” and the world looking you in the eye and saying “ _No_ ”.

He puts the tray down on the table in front of the couch, and takes a seat on it beside me, flopping back and trying to relax. I thank him, put my book aside, and start eating. When I’m almost done, he seems to remember something, and rummages around his coat pockets. When he finds what he’s looking for, he drops it on the tray, and goes back to relaxing. Seems he got me something, lets see what it is.

_Oh_ … It’s candy. A little piece of cheap, hard candy, nothing fancy. It still makes me inordinately happy that he thought of me. That I meant enough to him that he could remember to bring me something nice, even when he’s absolutely exhausted. I quickly finish eating, pop the treat in my mouth, and proceed to surprise him. I lay down on the couch, pillowing my head on his leg, and thank him again. He startles a bit at the contact, but relaxes again after a couple of seconds. A few minutes later, I feel him gently patting my head, then combing his finger through my hair, unbraiding it, and making the both of us relax even further.

We both end up falling asleep like that, waking up to a knock on the door. It’s one of Glasses’ co-workers, looking for him, since their shift is about to end, and he was nowhere to be found. Glasses himself is still a bit groggy with sleep when he goes, and I have to remind him to take the tray with him, but he does look marginally better than when he entered, so I count that as a win. He ruffles by hair and gets out, and I catch a glimpse of the person on the other side of the door. He looks about the same age as Glasses, and just as tired, safe to say he is probably another student. He catches sight of me and startles a bit, eyes wide, but moves on, probably having no energy to deal with anything right now. I wave them goodbye and shuffle over to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

Something tells me tomorrow is gonna be boring as fuck.


	3. Feels like Nothing At All Nothing At All Nothing At All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, peeps. Here it is. This one fought me so hard, I think I got a black eye.  
> As always, big thanks to KlonoaDreams for enabling, and RinAstray for being a wonderful beta.  
> Hope you guys have fun.

It’s been roughly a week since then. Nothing besides routine, and routine tends to be boring. On the bright side, I’ve learned the names of most of my caretakers, and their schedules.

On Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays, I’ve got Ms. Marina Kritikos, that first assistant who hugged me and promised to bring me soft blankets. Turns out she didn’t have the time to before her shift ended. She’s here from morning until mid-afternoon. Following her is Mr. Madsen, from mid-afternoon to late night.

Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays are taken over by Red, whose name I’ve learned to be Sofia O’Ryan. She’s a nice enough lady, but seems _terrified_ of anything relating to me. After her, it’s Glasses, real name Santiago Costa. Fittingly enough, his nickname among the staff is “Tired Tiago”. Poor kid needs a break.

Sunday shifts, as I understand it, are decided by drawing lots, and whoever loses gets stuck on babysitting duty. Unfortunately I’ve yet to meet any of the people on the graveyard shifts.

Although, a really cute thing I noticed is that most of them tend to discreetly give me sweets after meals, and it seems to be completely independent of each other. Each one of these people, separately sat down and thought to themselves “Oh, this kid already goes through so much suffering, let me give him something nice”, and it’s both the most heartwarming and hilarious thing in the world to me right now. They’re all dorks and I love them.

The lessons and training continue as usual, and every day I am more and more impressed by how much knowledge the teachers have been able to shove into my brain, AND that I actually _remember_ it. Training is restricted to mostly dodging, rolling, escaping from holds, agility, evasive maneuvers, etc. They can’t really focus on forms and other advanced lessons until my body grows properly.

Along with all that are battle lessons and strategy games, and _boy_ , let me tell you… No matter how smart I am, or how optimal this brain is, _I suck at strategy games_ . It’s not that they’re too hard, or have too many rules, nothing like that. It’s that I don’t have the patience to sit down and _plan_ . Especially when I’ve never been interested in these kinds of games before. I think the closest I’ve ever been to having an interest in a dry strategy game was when I gave the _Hikaru No Go_ manga a try. I never finished it though, so you can guess how well that went. In contrast, give me a _Pokémon_ game, where you have to take in consideration almost a thousand individual creatures, type compatibility of both pokémon and moves, IV, EV, regular stats and status effects, the probability of an opponent switching mid-battle, etc. I’m good. I love it. I grew up with it and played it to the day I died. But this… This dry, boring, millennia old strategy game? No. My brain just looks at it and _nopes_ out of the situation out of sheer boredom. Needless to say, the instructors are so frustrated, they’re very close to pulling their hair out.

On another note, I’ve seen Hojo once again, for a _proper_ check up this time, and he was _furious_ . Turns out, someone spent quite a bit of time and effort to get a _specific_ report and complaint _straight to the president_ , detailing how, after a petty and careless action of Hojo’s, I was found to be severely compromised in both body and mind, and unfit for anything other than bed rest for a number of days. This report also conveyed the employee’s _concern_ that, were Professor Hojo to continue taking _certain liberties_ with regards to my care and treatment, he might time it poorly, resulting in my being left vulnerable during a time where I would need to be deployed, not to mention there was a possibility of long term damage. President Shinra, who counted on me being the key to his plans of world conquest, took offense to this perceived slight against his chances, and immediately had the Turks investigate such an outrageous report. The Turks, obviously, found it to be true, so the president decided to _severely restrict_ the experiments Hojo was allowed to perform on me.

Not gonna lie, I almost passed out from sheer relief when I heard the news. I got so wobbly, Mr. Madsen had to steady me, and I’m pretty sure he knew why, since he sent me a full smile. Either way, you can imagine just how _ridiculously angry_ he was, now that he lost free reign over his “ _prized specimen_ ”. For the next few days everyone left me more candy than usual after a meal. Adorable, all of them.

Now, while this made my life a whole lot easier, it also made it so that I had a lot fewer chances to off Hojo. Not that I’m complaining, not having to be subjected to his insanity is great, it’s just that now I’ll have to wait longer and be more careful in taking my chances. Meh, it’ll come sooner or later, the asshole can’t resist being, well, an asshole.

With those issues out of the way, my attention has been turned to excelling in my lessons, the practicals in particular. The better I can be in any form of combat, the better my chances at anything will be. Thankfully, my teachers seem to agree with me in the opinion that I should focus on speed and flexibility for now, since a child’s body has an easier time with those. And, well, so far so good, the results are showing and there doesn’t seem to be any ill effects that can be seen.

Materia and magic lessons are a completely new experience, and I’ve confirmed that, yes, MP is, indeed, mental power, instead of any inherent magic a person may possess. Casting is a mental command, and requires quite a bit of mental energy be expended for it, therefore, casting frequently and without breaks is very, _very_ exhausting. The way to increase MP is rather straightforward, in that one needs only exercise the mind in various ways, such as studying, meditating, accumulating knowledge, playing word games and puzzles, self reflection and analysis, etc. Nothing I’m not doing already, so there’s no need to go out of my way for it. Of course, knowing I have a lot of MP doesn't mean knowing _exactly how much_ I have. It’s actually rather easy to quantify it, if rather boring. Each spell has a known cost, so I just gotta cast a specific spell to exhaustion. Though it _does_ leave a tiny margin of error, since it’s possible to have just that tiny bit of MP left that is not enough to cast, it’s still reasonably accurate.

Meaning this is a common practice that is repeated every so often. In my case, every other month, and that day is fast approaching. Naturally, I’m concerned that my recent… _Changes_ might have a significant effect. Though I guess if it’s a negative change, I can always blame Hojo.

For now, I’ll just focus on training my mind and making sure it’s in peak condition for the big day.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The doors to the training room open, and we’re greeted by the materia and magic instructor, Professor Liza Rowell. Cool lady, bit serious, ridiculously smart, and takes absolutely no shit. Obviously, I love her and crave her approval. She nods a greeting and moves closer to the center of the room, waiting for me to follow. I do so, while Ms. Kritikos goes to sit on one of the benches by the back wall, far enough away from all the action that it’s reasonably safe.

“Alright, kid. You know the drill, equip the materia, center yourself, and start casting.”

She hands me a low leveled ice materia and a regular iron bangle, and I obey. Equipping materia is another thing that turned out being pretty different from what I imagined. Granted, the action of equipping was never really shown, with the exception of the Remnants in Advent Children, but _those three_ weren’t exactly _normal_ , so the argument is invalid. Anyway, equipping materia is more mental focus than physical action, as you have to visualize the materia entering the slot, since the opening isn’t big enough for the sphere to fit.

Another interesting thing about casting is that while there aren’t standard incantations, and calling out the spell’s name isn’t necessary, it _does_ help. It’s a nice mental exercise and cuts down on the effort needed for it, so a lot of people do it, especially when they are inexperienced. Like I am, now. Turns out my casting speed went down by _a lot_.

Time to throw Hojo under the bus.

“A-- Apologies, Professor. It seems Professor Hojo’s trials had unforeseen adverse effects…” I tell her, looking forlorn. She frowns and pauses for a few seconds, probably thinking of a way to circumvent this, and get me back up to normal as soon as possible.

“Well, doesn’t matter right now. Just keep casting as best as you can, and we’ll see if there are more changes we’re not aware of yet.”

She goes back to taking notes on her clipboard, and I get back to casting. In the end, my limit only went up by a barely significant margin. By the end of it all, I’m too mentally beaten to even count, much less convert that into the numbers I would get for my MP. That’s what Professor Rowell is here for, anyways. She tells me I’ve managed to cast 11 ice spells, which is a little disappointing, and that means I should have around 44 MP.

That’s… _tiny_. A little disheartening, to be honest, but nothing I can’t work to improve. Whatever. I don’t have it in myself to even be bothered by now. I need a shower and sleep, hopefully in that order, instead of both at the same time. Let’s hope I can stay standing for long enough.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


On one hand, I did manage to finish showering before passing out on my very comfy bed. On the other, _I did not expect to be out of commission all the way to the next morning_. Holy fuck, I must have really needed that. And I’m pretty sure I’m not up to full yet, even after a full night's sleep. Goes to show I need to take game mechanics with a grain of salt. At least I have the day free to rest and recuperate, thankfully, so I might as well use my time wisely.

Time to go around and question some random people about seemingly innocuous things.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Alright, that didn’t yield nearly as good results as I’d hoped, though I guess I’m to blame for expecting too much. It looks like most people are wary of me to some extent, much like Sofia. Apparently that’s because there are _many_ rumors about me circulating in the tower. The content of these rumors vary wildly, and can range between “ _A poor child that has been taken from his mother by the evil science department, and used for horrible experiments_ ”, which is technically true, as Lucrecia didn’t even get to hold me, and “ _An alien monster that can take somewhat human form, and is fooling everyone while waiting to take over the world_ ”, which, excuse me, that’s Jenova, but also not entirely untrue, as the shitheads made me to be half Space Parasite.

The other reason why it didn’t go that well was the Turks started _Looking_ at me. I may not be the brightest bulb, but I know when not to risk it, so I cut my losses and retreated.

Now, from what I’ve gathered, both in asking around and in digging through my memories, Professor Gast Faramis went missing about five years ago, give or take. Meaning he is dead, Aerith is a toddler, and she and Ifalna are here, being held prisoner, and used as lab rats by Hojo. Guess I know what my main priority is going to be.

Unfortunately, I got nothing on the current Turk Commander. Not that I expected to, with them being Secret Service, and all. Still annoying, though.

Well, I’ve already done a lot of walking around, and it’s only just past noon, so how can I occupy my time while being mostly out of the way? Hmmm… Oh, I know how to do that _and_ endear myself to some of the staff! Time to head to the kitchen!

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“...C-Could you repeat that, dear?”

“I would like to learn how to cook and bake, if possible, miss.”

“...Huh?...”

Yeah, I figured the kitchen staff would be a bit befuddled. Who wouldn’t, when the rumored super weapon in development just walks up to the person in charge, and asks to be taught how to cook? While I already know how, and am rather good at it, Seph himself never learned, so I’ve gotta start from scratch here to avoid suspicion.

“I… apologize if this isn’t the best time. I thought it would be best to come after lunch time, so as to not get in the way of the rush hour,” I say, lowering my head in pretend disappointment. Now, _that_ gets a reaction.

“N-no! No, no, it’s no problem! We just-- didn’t expect it from, well, anyone, really…” the lady in charge tells me, looking confused. She’s tall and stocky, and looks like she could bench press a SOLDIER with minimal effort. I smile in response, looking relieved.

“Oh! Good. Thank you, miss. I didn’t want to bother you, but it looked fun, and… I wanted to learn something that didn’t have to do with studying…” I say, progressively lowering my volume, until I whisper the last part. Now Ms. Kritikos looks like she wants to hug me, and Kitchen Head Lady seems a little softer. _Score again~~♪._

Obviously, she and most of the rest of the kitchen staff agree to teach me a thing or two when I can spare the time to come by after the lunch rush. For this first day, though, they start with kitchen safeties, the dos and don'ts. Basic stuff, easy to remember. How to keep everything clean, how to hold a knife, how to cut stuff without mauling yourself.

Sometime during the lesson Ms. Kritikos’ shift ended and Mr. Madsen came to relieve her. After the staff taught me the basics, they decided it was enough for today, as I was still supposed to rest my mind. So I decided it was time to make my opening move towards another player. Mr. Madsen, being a true teddy bear behind his gruff facade, agrees to accompany me to the library.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


As expected, the library is a whole lot bigger and better stocked than shown in the original game, looking more like the Remake portrayed, so point there. I look for something on the simpler side, since I’m not 100% just yet, and I know I’ll probably have to use my brain in dealing with who can be found here. I grab a book on martial arts history, plunk down on one of the sofas, and wait.

It’s not long before I feel eyes on me. Probably wondering how they can use me to dismantle Shin-Ra from the inside. Ha! Joke’s on them, I already intend to do that I just need the resources.

After roughly half an hour, someone finally approaches. A short older man with thinning gray hair in a nice suit. I _think_ this is the mayor’s assistant. What was his name again? He and the mayor were named after pizzeria chains.

“Why, hello there. Good afternoon. It’s not often we see children in the tower. I am Mr. Hart, Mayor Domino’s assistant,” he introduces himself, _Ah, so those are their names, Pizza Hut and Domino's Pizza_ , and I outwardly pause. Sephiroth has never heard of a Mayor Domino. Has no reason to know Midgard even has a mayor. Barely knows there’s an actual city beyond the tower, which he has never set foot outside of. So I blink at him, and try to make my face look stoic, but my eyes seem confused.

“I… Was not aware we had a mayor,” I tell him, and watch as his eyes glint. Mr. Madsen is cautiously observing by my side, a protective hand on my shoulder. I scoot closer to his side, just as cautious, if for different reasons.

“Oh, that’s such a shame. Well, you learn something new every day, I guess,” Hart says, soft and amiable, if not a little forced, a little rehearsed. He makes to start a bit, as if getting a sudden idea. He leans forward, as if sharing a secret. “Would you like to meet the mayor?”

I widen my eyes and pause to think. This is my chance to get a plausible connection to the mayor, and I don’t know when I’ll have the time to come back here again, so I need to take the chance. I just can’t let it go on for too long, or get too weird. Outwardly, I move to cup my chin with a hand, and frown in thought, slightly lowering my head.

“Very well. I accept your invitation, Mr. Hart.” I look at him seriously, and make to get up, only briefly stopping to clutch Mr. Madsen’s hand. No need to make it look like I’m ignoring him or his opinion. He looks a little distrustful of Hart, and I can’t blame him, that _was_ pretty suspicious. Mr. Madsen still clutches my hand back, and keeps me close to himself, as comforting and protectively as he can. Such a sweetheart, I love this man.

Hart leads us through the library, and into the office, all the while babbling about how important the mayor is, and how much his work helps the whole city. All in all, this guy needs to work on his speech and acting, his sales pitch is falling a bit short. In the office itself, we are met by the mayor.

“Ah! Hello. Come in, don’t be shy,” he waves us in, smiling. “I’m Mayor Domino, it’s a pleasure to meet you. You must the Sephiroth we’ve been hearing about.” He greets us and extends his hand. I don’t move to take just yet, looking up to Mr. Madsen for a cue, trying to sell the image of an innocent and sheltered little kid. It seems to work, as mr. Madsen looks down at me before shaking hands with Domino and introducing himself, still being cautious.

When their attention turns back to me, I shake his hand and respond with a quiet “Hello,” and try to look curious. What follows is some rather boring small talk and a few refreshments. Small stuff, water and some basic snacks. They tell me a bit of what the mayor’s job _should_ entail, and try to get me interested in them.

They fail miserably. It’s easy to see how out of practice they are in public speaking. Hell, even Mr. Madsen is struggling to keep a straight face, it’s so bad, and I’m in the same boat. It’s getting harder and harder to keep the polite smile up, my face is tired and I want to cry.

Desperate situations call for desperate measures, so I subtly nudge Mr. Madsen and try to convey the feeling of “ _Please save me from this disaster_ ”. Thankfully, he understands immediately, obviously sharing the sentiment, and fires off a generic excuse, successfully freeing us from further suffering. We quickly make our way out of the library and make a pit stop at the cafeteria for a mid-afternoon snack, before heading back to my room.

“Remind me to _never_ trap myself in a conversation with them _ever again_ . _Please_.” Mr. Madsen actually barks a laugh at that, and I can’t even blame him.

“Just don’t make me _have_ to remind you, then.” he responds, which, fair. That one was on me. He ruffles my hair a bit more forcefully than usual, tells me to _rest, dammit_ , and leaves to finish his duties. I’m just about beat myself, so I just brush my teeth and flop down on the bed to relax until dinner.


	4. Elmo took too much Bone Hurting Juice (This Is Fine)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys. First things first. I made a mistake in chapter 3 about how long Gast has been missing and how old Aerith is. At first, it said it has been roughly 1 year, but after looking it over, I noticed that was wrong, especially since Sephiroth is 10 years old here. His age is never given in specifics, but it's said taht he is approximately 27 years old during the core game, and that was retconned to 30 in the remake. I am using the original game's lore for this fic, so 27 it is, which would make Aerith about 5 years younger than him. I've edited the previous chapter to reflect that. That should teach me not to do math while still recovering from sensory overload.
> 
> With that out of the way, thank you all for coming back, and I hope you like this chapter as well. It sure fought me harder than the last.

Days pass, then turn into weeks, and soon enough, it's been three months since my arrival here, and I've  _ finally _ gotten used to all this nonsense. Lessons have been going alright, cooking lessons even better. The kitchen staff has taken a shine to me, even if there are still some that are wary. They finally trust me enough to let me prepare a few simpler dishes by myself, which is very nice, and we started on baking basics three weeks ago and I can't wait to show them how much of a natural I am at it.

I've been seeing Hojo every other week, and the bastard had been even more restricted since my MP measure, because Professor Rowell obviously reported the apparent negative effects of his meddling. I swear he's _ constantly _ fuming these days, it's hilarious.

I’ve managed to get another brief meeting with Domino and Hart, confirming to them that while I’m curious, I don’t really have the time to see them anywhere near often. Here’s hoping they severely underestimate me.

My  _ other pursuits _ , however, haven’t yielded much results at all. Finding anything on Hojo’s other  _ experiments _ is like looking for a needle in a haystack, not to mention really dangerous for everyone if he gets the wrong idea. From the way things are going, Ifalna and Aerith are gonna have to wait a lot longer.

On the other side of things, I’ve been trying to get an in with the Turks, and it’s been…  _ complicated _ , to say the least. First of all, it’s the Turks, their whole thing is being inside spies who do the dirty jobs that can’t go public, I  _ can’t afford _ to mess up or trip over myself with them. Second of all, the people in their roster right now  _ are not _ the people I know. I’m early enough in the timeline that most of the people shown in the compilation are just  _ too young _ to be in here right now. And while there is a possibility that they are being groomed for it from a young age, the fact is  _ I’ve yet to see anyone I recognize _ . I don’t know  _ anything _ about  _ any of these people _ . Making a wrong move here is both very likely and very dangerous, which is why I’m moving ridiculously slowly. And  _ no _ , I don’t like it either, but I’d rather be alive to complain, than too dead to do anything at all.

The slightly better news is that my casting speed has gotten a lot better with practice, and Professor Rowell is very glad this was a temporary set back. So far, Magic and Materia lessons have been on how to identify and properly cast the more basic spells, but now that I’ve gotten better, she’s moving me up to consciously choosing and controlling which spells I want to cast from a higher level materia. It was a little hard at the start, but after I got the hang of it, I actually started having fun. Still pretty exhausting, though.

On a completely unrelated note, I’ve read a version of Loveless. I’ll admit, I’ve never really gotten poetry, it doesn’t make much sense to me. And I don’t think I’ll be able to go see a play for a few years yet, so  _ those _ versions are out of reach. Even then, back Before, I’ve only really gone to the theater once, on a school trip, and those can make anything seem pretty irritating, so you can guess my general opinion on theater. I can already see how  _ well _ my meeting with Genesis will go. Let’s just hope I don’t shove my foot in my mouth too much.

I’ve been keeping my ear to the wall for any news on AVALANCHE, but that’s going slow, too. What little info there is, is mostly speculation and rumor, and the closest I could get to something concrete is approximation at best.  _ Kinda like the official timeline, really _ . Granted, there’s not much I  _ would _ be able to do to prevent most of the mess that is  _ Before Crisis _ from happening, but I was hoping to at least find something that could be useful later on.

_ Like Fuhito’s whereabouts. I sure would like to send that motherfucker back to the lifestream. _

_ Meh _ . My best bet so far is keeping an eye out for the incident in Kalm, so I at least know when Elfé is in Nibelheim. Either way, I need to keep preparing for the war, and even then, figuring out a way to get Aerith out soon enough that Ifalna can be saved is already taking up time and energy. I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.

I pause on the way back to my room with Santiago because I spot something completely incongruous in the tower. It’s a little kid, around my new age, if I had to guess. Their straight black hair is just past shoulder-length, and the top is secured in a half-ponytail. They’re accompanying an older man, a Turk, judging by the snazzy suit, and paying rapt attention to what the man is saying.

A… new recruit? Turk in training? Baby Turk? Whatever the case is, that kid is  _ way _ too young to be joining them.  _ This is a chance to establish a precedent. First meeting now, then I can just call them over some other time. _ Brain comes up with some useful logic, for once, so I follow it and call out to the kid.

“Hey, hi! Are you new here?” I skip over to their side, and both the kid and the Turk turn to look at me. I focus on the kid and… Asian features, a tilak on their forehead, around my age, looks more serious than any child should be…  _ Oh My Fuck. This is Tseng, isn’t it? _ I sincerely hope it’s Tseng, since I don’t remember seeing any asian, or Wutaian, looking people in Shin-Ra besides him and Hojo, and in the asshole’s case, it was more the name than anything else.

I keep my face looking interested and curious, and Baby Tseng(?) eyes me with surprise, then confusion, followed by interest. All relatively muted, of course. It’s actually kinda cute, the way he still has baby fat all over.  _ Such round cheeks. I wanna pinch _ .

“...Yes, I am. I only just started my training here. My name is Tseng, what is yours?”  _ OH MY GOD _ . He looks so prim and proper, and so composed, it just makes me want to pinch him all the more!

“I’m Sephiroth. Nice to meet you.” I keep smiling and extend a hand for him to shake. He pauses and eyes it for a second, before reaching out to take it. Hmm, maybe still getting used to cultural differences, if he was raised with Wutaian/Asian customs? I add a respectful little bow to the motion, and he looks surprised and glad, mixed with familiarity, then follows suit. Yep, definitely some culture shock there.

Cue an exasperated and tired Santiago coming up to us.  _ Oops _ . I might have forgotten about him in my excitement. I don’t have to pretend to look sheepish because I genuinely am. I turn back to him and apologize properly, and he’s too much of a darling to even get mad, he’s just a little annoyed. He waves me off and I turn back to Mr. Turk and Turk Jr., only to freeze when I actually look at the adult man Tseng was following.

There is… very little  _ to _ mistake here. This is Veld, Vincent’s old partner and, most likely, current Turk Commander.  _ Shit. Think think think. How do I make it look less obvious that I know who he is? _

_ When in doubt, blame Hojo. _

“H-Hello, Mr. Verdot.” I‘m actually shaking a bit here, because this is  _ HUGE _ . Veld is someone I would really rather  _ NOT _ be on the wrong side of. He can and  _ will _ end me if he thinks it’s necessary, Hojo and company investments be damned.

He raises an eyebrow at me addressing him by name, but the rest of his expression remains the same.

“Hello, Sephiroth. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced yet, so I’m a little curious about how you would know who I am.” Well, shit. Here goes.

“Yes, well.. Professor Hojo mentions you every once in a while. He, um… He has… many things to say.” I have no doubt I look as awkward and panicked as I feel. Veld’s other eyebrow joins it’s twin.

“I see. Only good things, I hope.”

“Uhhh…” I cringe, because,  _ yeah, no _ , there’s no way Hojo would say anything good about anyone that isn’t himself, the egomaniac fucker. At that, Veld’s stare gets even flatter,  _ somehow _ .

“I see… Well, there’s still much to be done today, so we will be taking our leave. Have a good day, both of you. Come now, Tseng.” He removes himself from the situation, lucky bastard, and Tseng is a cute baby with his little “Goodbye, Sephiroth. I hope we can see each other again soon.”

“Me too, Tseng. Goodbye, and good luck with your training.” I add a little bow, before waving at him with a smile, and he does the same. So adorable, I want to baby him for the rest of his life.

When they’re out of sight, I turn back to Santiago and wilt a little. Being in the vicinity of the Turk Commander is  _ exhausting _ , and makes me want to retreat into my room for the rest of the day. That’s enough socializing. Instead, I offer my wonderfully chill caretaker the sweetest words to ever leave a mouth.

“So… How about a two hour nap?”

He visibly sags at this, and gives me a smile that is both somewhat defeated and hopeful at once.

“Yes.  _ Please _ .”

And that’s that.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Some three weeks after that fateful encounter,  _ someone _ tempted fate. No, that someone is not me, I’m not that stupid, I actually do everything to  _ never _ do that.  _ The universe is always listening _ . The dumb fuck who did it is one of Hojo’s assistants. Asshole just had to go “What’s the worst that could happen?” about my scheduled battle test. And it’s not even a simulation, the VR rooms don’t exist just yet, so this is a real fight against a monster. Last I checked, I should be just strong enough to defeat a Land Worm without much trouble. Gotta love that speed.

With all of that taken into account, imagine my surprise and  _ sheer terror _ when something rather round and dark gray in color came floating out of the cage.

At first I thought it was a Bomb. easy enough to dispatch of, if you could do it fast enough that it didn’t have time to explode in your face. Then I noticed the color, and thought  _ Different colored enemies are about the same, just stronger _ , and then it clicked.

A much stronger Bomb. A  _ Grenade _ .

This thing was  _ a motherfucking Grenade _ ! Who was the drunk pigeon that thought I would be able to do this? These things only come out near the end of the game, I’m not  _ nearly _ high leveled enough for it. To top it all off, it has no weaknesses either, beyond attacking from the back.  _ Shit! _ What materia do I have? Fire is out of the question, Earth is null, all other elements deal regular damage, so kinda useless until I need to retreat before it goes off.  _ Alright, okay, I have Barrier. That should be something, at least… YES! _

A mastered Seal materia, meaning I have access to Sleepel and Silence. Just what I need for this.

I start casting and avoiding the hell out of the Grenade, starting with Sleepel, since it has the higher chance to stick. It takes a couple of minutes and me getting a little singed when it shot fireballs a little too fast for me, but it finally goes under. I waste no time at all, casting SIlence until I can  _ feel _ it taking effect. The less I risk here, the better.

I move to it’s backside and start wailing into it as heavily as I can. A  _ not _ fun fact about Bombs and Grenades is that they are only somewhat physical. Their bodies are made of a crystalized core, surrounded by plasma, which is in turn, enveloped by a somewhat gelatinous film. In order to damage it, you have to be careful not to hit it’s core, but the thing is about a fifth of the creature’s original size, and not very visible through the layers, so you can guess what a  _ nightmare _ this is.

The Grenade wakes up and starts swelling, and I book it out of the way before it can attack me. Once I’m far enough, I start casting Sleepel again, hoping to keep this strategy until it’s close to blowing up.

I repeat the process a couple more times, and now the monster is too big to safely get close to it, so I start raining lightning spells on it, dodging all the while. All is going fine until my foot slips on the soot covered floor, and I go down, too harried and focused on the Grenade to react. I fall on my back and it’s jarring enough to cost me precious seconds getting up, and by then, the Grenade is already upon me.

I panic, and swipe at it with my sword, hitting something solid. I hear it shattering, and my stomach drops.  _ Oh yeah, I forgot to cast Barrier. _

**_BOOM_ **

  
  


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S̈́͂̂͏̝̟̥̖̖͚̫̲̜̰̖̬͎͙̖̖̬̕͜͞ͅo̧̨̮͎͇̦̰̘͕̖̞̦̮̻̜͔͖̣͗̒ͬ̓̑ͫ̇́͞m̧̛͇̩̥̬͇͙̫̬͔̬̼̟̠̗̪̉ͣ͌̈́̈́͊̂̍ͧ͘M̷͙͉̲̪͚̥̩̠̠̟̻͂̽ͦ̃̑̎ͫ̀ͯ̉ͨ͛ͬ̈̄̅̌̎̆ỳ͋ͬ̄̃̑ͦ̐̽͛̃̿ͭ̎̎̍͐̌҉̡͎̱̞̼̻̣͓͘͞Ṡ̨̜͚̝̩̀͋ͬ̉̄̅ͬͧ̅̋̅͟ỏ̵̼̥͉̠͉̮͋̉ͨͮ͊͘͢͞ͅn̢̛̝̥̥̦̠̩̰͇̒ͧ̐̒̆̈́̓̏͌ͥͧ̽ͣͣ̂̈͂̏̚Ç̡̪̩͎͈̤̯̻̤̦͇̠̭̻̰͋ͪ̔̆̊̾ͬ͟ͅọ̷̲͇̤͍̗̣̝̠̮̹̝̙̪̅̋̀̍̔̌ͫ̕͝͠͝ͅͅm̔ͮͬ͒ͤ̇ͩ̌̃҉̗̱͚͕̠̕ͅẹ̭̺͓̙̀̌ͤͥ͌ͫ̈́̇͂͛̚͘͢͟͝T̷̶̪͕̖͍͚̈͑͋̌ͪ͋ͣ́ͪͨ̋ͭ̽̌͊ͣ̿̓͢͞o̊͐̎͛ͪ̈́̍̊͛̓ͦ̾̆͗͜҉͔̼̮̞͝M̢̉͊͆͆̅ͫ́̄ͧ̐̑ͤ͏̗̯͖̻̠̝͈̺̯͚̫͍̲̰͈o̷̴̡̦̩̤̟̒ͤ̽̉ͣͧ̅ͤ͆͗͢ṯ̷̼̳̟̥̖̦͈̜̮͈̬̙̀̾͋̽̾̃͞h͖̝̹̤͉̘͕̙̗̲̓̉̅̿̐̊ͯͩ͐ͬͬͦ͑ͪͥ̚͠͝ͅe̊̄ͦ̅̑͆ͧ̒͐͆̒̓̒̇͒͜͡͏̮̳̲͙̤r̡͚͓̣̫͖̥̲̞̘͉̎̒͒ͥͧ̀̄ͮͨ̅͜

̩̠̦̹̩̜̟͚͙͚͉̲̺͖̘̝ͧ̓̂ͨ̎ͮ͆̌̓ͮ̄̂̀̚͘Ṃ̷̛̫̳̰̪͓̞̘̹̯̻͚̘ͤ̐ͭ̌ͯ̐͆̏̎́ͥ͑͗ͥ̍o̴̬͇͇̘̥̘͔̅ͦ̐̚͜͞ͅt̨̧̨͔͇͖͇̝̠͓͍̫̯̦̞͍̰̽̑̎ͣ̓ͮ̔̃ͮ̉̿̈̎͒͒͞ͅh̨͑̑̑ͦͬͨ͋̆͆ͨ̊̚͠҉͎̮͓͙e̢̡͙̣͕̮͈͓̬̜͚̫̣͕̠̩͍͓̍̾̉͢͟͞ŗͯͭ̃͗ͨ̐͐͂͒ͬ̌ͬ̇̉͆̄̈́́͏̵̭̰̤͙͖L̑ͣ̓̄͋ͦ̊͂̉̿҉̧̼̹͍̣̯̠͕͍̬͈͚̗̤̳̺͖̩̮o̶̫̠̥͇̲̦͗̅ͭ̒͊̾͐͋ͬ̃́̔̆̑ͪ͂̚͟͝͠v̷̧̺̻͉̣̝̞͉͕͋̓͊͋̅̾̇ͬ̍͛ͬ̒͋e̔̄̑̇̋̎̀̂̂ͤ̀̿̎̂͢͏̶̥͍͕̪͔͈͚͉̤̩̤͟s̶̵̪̟̞̰̱̬ͩ̓͊ͯͪ̀̽̈̾̎̈̒͗ͯY̦͖ͮ͛̽̍̒̾͛̆ͫ͑ͣ͘͠͞ͅo̓͒͐̿̐ͫͭ̂ͪ̈͑ͧ̇̆ͥͯ̌͑ͨ͘҉̴̼̺̟̲̫̗͕̲̠̳̞͍̺͚͕̲̕úͪͮ̑͢͡͏͕͖̲̯̹͓

̷͉͚̤̼̭͔̐̾͗̋ͦ̈́͛̈́̄͠ͅC̸̸̛͚̥̗̲̺̱͎̓ͦ̑̿̽ͣ̎̏́̉̚͠o̧̧̳̮̰̬͙̪̥̗̩̭̟̤̲̗̣ͫͣ̽̇͊̃̍ͯ͋̑͛̏͂ͬͬͬ̕m̸̨͔̰͍̯̱̱̣͓̹̃̈͐̊̊͒̅͢e̳̟̜͚̲͓͍̳ͪ̐͆ͯ̾̌͆̕͞T̶͐ͣ͌̔͗͌̓̈́ͬ̿̾͘͠͠҉͉̞̣͈̺͉̤̩͈̟͖̙̬̙͕̩̯͓ͅơ̵̶͈̦͍͔͓̹̙̠͇̘͇̣̆̈͊̉̎͒ͧ̈̾̾ͥ̌M̶̢̝̣̰̤̫̤̲̝̹̭̼ͯ͛͒̊̍̏̈̑͂̆̀͡o̧ͧ̿̈́ͭͧͦͮ̆ͮ͋̇ͯͮ̾͌͏͔̺̜͖̘̳̱̹̻̭tͥ̌ͯ̎͐ͯ͐̍̏͊ͫ̌ͫ̄͗̎͜͏̷̮̠̱̹̖̬̬̱̮̟͙͇̜h̴̴̡̻̰̮͍͚͔̖̹̯̞̬͚̰̍ͬ̌ͭ͊̀͋͊ͫ̇̈́͞ȩ͊̋̊̌͋ͭ̏ͫ̒̔̀ͩͯͫ͘͢҉͕͍̱̲̙̺̪̪̹ͅȑ̢̺̝̮̭̫̯̳͍̩̞̰̲̋ͫ̐̋̔̍̏ͬ̂͋͑S͖̺̞̰̳̝͓͇͕̖͙̠̱̯͍͇͈͙̦̏ͫ̍͐ͧ̈̂͒ͭ̇̔ͮ͂ͮ̐̒̚̚ȍ̸̴̖̪͕̭͌̄̆̚͢͞W̷̢͉̼̖͖̠̣̰̱̠̱̌ͥͧͣͦͬ͗ͪ̿̄͊ͫ͋̿̓̊̈́̂ͅe̸̢̨̹͈̙̝̥͚͔̣̗͖͖̤̥̳͗͆ͣͣ́ͧ́͆ͦ̂̓ͮͨ̿ͪͯ̋͊̕C̛̄ͦ̿͛̚҉҉̤̯̼̣̝̹̖̕a̵̵͙̗̥̳̘̣̺̺̤̲͙̠͕͋̿̂̐̒ͯͫ̾̌̏̾ͦ̓͒͞n̶̴̡̙̦̩̝̼͙͖̖͕̖͚͉̞̟͉͉͕͂̒̃̓̊ͧ̌͜͟Bͨͣ̆̄ͬ̀̌̌̿͋̉̓̏͗͗͜͜͢͢҉̩͎͚̖̪̜̹̗͇̞̱̹̰̻ȇ̶̖̣͚͎̺̽ͩ̎̄̽ͭ̅̚̕T̶̼͉̰͕̙̠̰̠̹̲̿͐̏͐ͯ̍̿̆̽̍ͬ͗̎͋̇̽o̧̞̦͉̫͚͚͖̼̦͈͍̲͈̜̭̘ͬ̒̆͒ͭ̆ͨ̈̊ͮ̕g̢̖̫̤̞͆̊ͭ͂̾̐͞͡ḙ̥̲̹̐̂̉͌̍͢͜t̨͇͚̲̣̥̻̝̍ͯ̂̈́͂̈̊̀̾̂̈̅̂̊́̔̅͘͢͝ĥ͒̎́͏̶̡̤̲͎̦͉̲̱̻̼̘͕̝̰̰͡͝ĕ̛̎̊̂͋̋͛̽̔̉̂̔̊͗̌ͣͥ̇͟͟҉̥̟̣̳̦̣̲̲̜̪̻̖̳̤̯ͅr̸̛̖̲͓͎̜͓͚̻͖͖͙̯͎̈̐̒

  
  
  
  


…………

…….

…

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


I jerk awake, and for a couple of seconds my brain lags and awareness escapes me. Then the  _ PAIN _ catches up, wrenching a strangled keening noise from my throat. Everything is  _ loud _ , and  _ bright _ , and it  _ hurts Hurts HURTS _ **_HURTS_ ** _ TOOMUCHPLEASE  _ **_PLEASESTOP MAKEITSTOP_ ** .

After what feels like far too long, my awareness flees me again, and I pass out.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


White… The ceiling is white… There is white on… me? …Yes …Yes, this is my body. There’s white wrappings on me. Everything feels… off. Too light, and too heavy at once. Too much and too little. My head is too full of nothing, static, white noise.

My throat hurts, there’s something in it. I can feel the panic trying to sink its claws in me, but it can’t quite get purchase, I’m too far away from reality. Then I notice a soft, intermittent  _ beep _ noise, getting faster and louder, until it nearly screeches. I can’t breathe.

There’s dark spots in my eyes, but I can see movement nearby. Whatever is stuck in my throat is being removed. It hurts at first, but I can finally breathe. I cough weakly, but that’s already enough to tire me, leaving me a panting mess.

There’s more noise. Someone is talking, but everything is muffled. I try to listen, but I’m so… I’m just so  _ tired _ . Something is poking my mouth. My first instinct is to turn away, but that takes more effort than I can expend. It wedges its way between my lips, and I hear someone speaking right into my ear, telling me to drink.  _ Ah, so it’s a straw _ . I start suckling on it.

The cool water down my throat is an unspeakable relief, bringing some of my awareness back. However, being able to comprehend the situation doesn’t make it any better, nor does it make the constant  _ pain _ stop.

It’s just so hard to stay awake. This person is trying to talk to me, but I can’t focus. I’m just too… Tired…

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Things are a bit more clear, now. The pain is a bit more muted, so they probably gave me some good painkillers. My movement is restricted by so many bandages that it feels heavy, and my skin feels like it’s stretching with every breath.

Let’s recap. Some failed lobotomy experiment thought it would be a nice idea to pit me against a Grenade, of all things. I was doing fine, until I wasn’t. I tripped, the Grenade caught up, and went “boom” far too close to my face for comfort.  _ Holy fuck, how am I not dead? _ Though I’m sure I had a breathing/feeding tube last time I was somewhat conscious, so I was probably out for  _ a while _ . Either way, the damage is extensive.

I sincerely hope said failed lobotomy experiment was Hojo, just so he can be even more restricted, and suffer even more consequences. He doesn’t suffer nearly enough for my tastes.

Someone walks up to the side of the bed and I look up at them. It’s a random nurse, no one I know, really. She’s taking notes on my vitals and takes a few seconds to notice I’m awake.

“Oh, hey kid. How you feelin’?”  _ Huh _ . How informal, that’s refreshing. Let’s try humor.

“Overcooked.” I give the weakest grin, as that’s what I can manage. She barks a laugh, then cringes slightly.

“Oof, kid. Too soon. But seriously, now, how are you feeling? Any pain? Discomfort? Anything?” I give her a flat look because, seriously, she’s asking me if I feel any pain. Just take a look at me, woman, what do you think?

“Gee, I don’t know. What do you think?” She cringes again, this time fully.

“Right, sorry, dumb question. Just describe what you’re feeling.”

“The pain is a bit dulled, probably because of the painkillers. I can feel my skin pulling constantly… Quick question, how crispy am I?” I look at her, because now I’m concerned. Surviving is one thing, but getting out unscathed is another. She looks serious for a moment, and takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly.

“Look, kid. You were really lucky you survived at all.” She tells me as if I didn’t know already.

“I know. I knew I would end up in really bad shape the moment that thing came out of the cage. I just want to know  _ how _ bad.” She still looks hesitant at that, so I guess I have to address the issue directly.

“Miss, I can’t feel my forearms properly. What. Is. The. Damage?”

At that, her face falls and pales. She looks a little panicked, but I need to get my point across. I’m not fine, and I know it.

“Please, miss. Just tell me. How bad is it?” I plead with her again, and this time I can see her hesitance fall away.

“... The Grenade went off way too close for you to avoid the blast… 70% of your body had severe burns, especially your arms. You managed to shield most of your face with them, but… You arms, they… It was really bad, kid.”  _ I know that already, lady. Get to the point. _ I make a face that tells her exactly so, and she sighs. “... Your arms were burned through almost to the bone, kid. The only reason you even still have them is that materia can do  _ a lot _ when used soon enough.”

That’s… not exactly what I was expecting, but then, I don’t really know what I  _ was _ expecting. It sure as hell drove the point home, I’m really fucking lucky to even be alive and whole. Oh, wait, she’s talking again.

“But what you said about not feeling them properly is a little worrying, though. It could be because the nervous terminations in your arms are dead, or it could be something else, maybe even worse. So I need to check it, okay?”

She moves closer with a bandage tray and scissors, and I look away. Knowing what is going on under the wrappings and actually seeing it are two very different things, and I don’t really like to look at those. I couldn’t even look at my own arm when I had to give blood samples Before, it always unnerved me for some reason.

She does her checks, and my arms feel numb in a seriously concerning way. I am… Very scared of it. I don’t know how much of the damage will be long term, and that terrifies me in a way I don’t know how to work through. Even as she pokes and prods at my arms, I can’t really feel it. There’s pressure, sure, but no tact...

… I’m scared.


	5. 'Tis But A Scratch (Just A Flesh Wound)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, peeps. First things first, here's a warning. I'm gonna give some description to Seph's injury, and while it's nothing graphic, some people might feel uncomfortable reading it. That being said, I'll be putting some markings before and after it, so you can skip it if you want. The long and short of it is that the burns were severe and there will be big scars. With that out of the way, please enjoy this chapter.

The next several days pass by in a haze. Nurse Lyndsay, along with my caretakers, comes to visit regularly. Ms. Kritikos cries every time, if in decreasing amounts. Actually, scratch that, I found out it’s Mrs. Kritikos. She has a husband back in Junon, working as a paper pusher, and trying for a transfer to Midgar, so he can be close to his wife. It’s sweet enough to give me cavities, and the guy even sent a blanket and a couple of plush toys for me, after she mentioned what happened. It was so precious I had to smile.

Mr. Madsen looked like he aged some ten years the first time I saw him following the incident, and it didn’t get much better after he started visiting. The poor man nearly had a heart attack when he heard about this mess. He seemed to have a few extra gray hairs since last time too, but I can’t be sure. He wanted to hug me, but knew it wouldn’t be a good idea, so he just settled for lightly patting my head, instead.

Santiago was so fucking stressed it was painful to watch. Constantly fidgeting, looking a little shaky when staring at my bandages, biting his lips and nails, the works. I swear I could hear him grinding his teeth, it was horrible. It got a little bit better every time he visited, but it remained there. Seriously, did anyone think to give these people a break while I was out?

Sofia looked… She looked kind of broken, not gonna lie. Her eyes were sunken and full of bags, her skin was pale, and her hair was dull. I have no idea what’s going on in her head to make her feel so bad, but I hope it gets better, it’s sad to see her like this. I give her a sweet little smile to try and reassure her, but it backfires. She looks even more stricken and starts tearing up, gets up and runs out of the room. That… was unexpected. I… I have no actual idea what just happened.

Nurse Lyndsay is an absolute angel, as usual. She’s so sweet, she gets me the softest blankets, fluffs my pillows, brings me the best healthy snacks, ect. If there is something that can be done to make me more comfortable, she does it. I can’t help but love her. I swear, if she’s not married in eight years time, I’ll pop the question.

… I… actually, now that I think about it, I might have a crush on her… A _huge_ crush… I mean, can you blame me? The woman is perfect, I can’t _not_ love her.

Near the end of the first week of bed confinement, Tseng comes to visit, along with Veld. Having him in the room is even more nerve wracking this time around, since they gave me the good drugs, and those make me a little loopy. 

Tseng is still a sweet kid, and tells me all the gossip I missed, even if I probably won’t be able to remember a good chunk of what he said. I’m sure I embarrass myself by calling him SonSon several times, as that’s what I’ve been calling him in my head. I mean, his name is read _Song_ , and he’s a super cute baby right now, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Either way, they leave with the promise to come visit again.

Halfway into the second week, I think I’m going insane from lack of stimulation. Sure, I spend long stretches of time conked out from the painkillers and other drugs, but I can’t move my arms properly, and that means I can't do anything by myself. No reading, since I can’t hold a book. No internet, since I can’t have a computer here, and even if I could, I wouldn’t be able to move the mouse and keyboard. There’s _nothing_ to be done about it, either. I can feel my mind unraveling bit by bit, until the angel of salvation comes to me in pure, blinding white.

Nurse Lyndsay is as sweet and gentle as ever, checking my vitals and chart, and even giving me a sponge bath, which, while embarrassing and slightly humiliating, is still very welcomed and appreciated. Then she sits down on the chair beside my bed, and looks at me with a very serious expression.

“Sephiroth, darling. We think your injuries have healed as much as they can in this condition, so I’m going to walk you through the situation, and explain everything you’ll need to know going forward.”

Well, this is it, time for reality to catch up. I need to see how bad it is, process it, plan around it, and move on. Alright, here we go.

“Got it.” I nod seriously at her, and she starts unraveling the bandages and talking.

⁂⁂⁂

“The damage was _very_ deep, and _very_ severe. You had 4th degree burns in both of your forearms, 3rd degree in the front of your torso and legs, 2nd in the rest of your body, and by some miracle, your face. What this means is that most of your body had light damage to the skin, your front had the entire skin layer burned off, and your arms... “ She pauses and swallows thickly. The bandages are almost fully off, now. She takes a deep breath before continuing.

“The muscles in your forearms were flayed off and burned through, almost to the bone. And because they were so deep, and already cauterized, those were the only injuries that we couldn’t repair fully, and will leave scars.”

“... I very nearly lost them, then.” I say, and this a sobering thought. There’s the old dread in the pit of my stomach, and I’m at a bit of a loss. Nurse Lyndsay nods solemnly, and continues.

“Yes. And even beyond the burns, there was the concussive damage. Several of your bones were badly broken, and you had a very severe concussion and brain bleed. We were very worried there would be long term damage.” She finishes taking the bandages off, and starts washing away the grime and poultices. I look at it.

It’s… weird. More weird than off-putting, actually. The scars are too large to be raised, so it all just looks like skin that is paradoxically too smooth and too wrinkly at once. Like an old person’s skin, but worn. Alright, the scars themselves aren’t that bad, in my opinion, but considering what materia and healing magic can do, and the fact that two medical professionals told me my muscles were burned through, this is terrifying.

_Wonder if they had to cast Life on me at some point_. No! Bad brain! No death thoughts allowed!

That’s when I take notice of something. I can’t feel her hands on my arms. There’s the usual pressure of their weight, but the sensation of touch isn’t there. I thought that happened early on because the burn was fresh, but if it continued this far, then it’s because the nerves in my skin are well and truly dead. It makes sense, as that happens when the skin is either burned through or melted, and mine was obliterated.

⁂⁂⁂

When she finishes cleaning my arms, I ask about it, just to be certain, and she confirms my suspicions. There really was no salvaging that. Then, she starts explaining how to care for the burns in the future, which I will need to know how to do, at least for the next few months, and re-wraps the bandages.

She then gives me a kiss on the forehead, and leaves with the promise of bringing snacks and a book or two. I’m left with my thoughts for a good while, and it gives me time to process.

I came ridiculously close to dying. I was certifiably mutilated, and am alive only by luck and the timely intervention of actual magic. _Oh, hello, dread. I was hoping to never see you again._ Fuck you, brain.

All the stuff I didn’t get to feel the first time is catching up to me now, because even though I’d already died once, that was too instant, too sudden. I didn’t feel anything beyond surprise. I’m finally being confronted with my mortality, and it sucks. It sucks so _so_ **_so_ ** much. Even with all the enhancements, all it took was a second, a single mistake to end everything. The tears well up, hot and heavy and fast. My throat starts closing in, and my body starts shaking. Then come the sobs, quiet from experience and practice. I just focus on breathing through it, however hard it is to do so.

_Just goes to show how meaningless all of this is. How all those efforts are useless in the face of overwhelming power. All that effort wasted. There’s no use for any of this. Any effort you make, any energy you expend, it’s all for nothing. It’s no use trying, so it’s better to just give up. It’s not like anyone will miss yo----_ **NO!** NO YOU DON’T! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE! I DID **NOT** SPEND A WHOLE THIRD OF MY LIFE IN THERAPY JUST FOR YOU TO SHOW YOUR FUGLY FACE AGAIN! I REFUSE TO SUCCUMB TO YOU!

The tears stop, and I take the deepest breath I can, hold it in for as long as I’m capable, and let it all out. Then I repeat, until my head is clear.

My mind is now empty, but not in the way of a void. It’s the empty of resolve. Depression caught me in its pitfalls once, and I managed to crawl back up with much effort and help. I refuse to fall again. I analyze the situation.

It was very much outside of my control. There was no way for someone of my level to defeat a Grenade. I lost, and suffered the consequences of a mistake that was not my own. I was heavily injured, and will have scars for the rest of my life. I can deal with scars, they don’t bother me that much. What _will_ be an issue is how everyone else will react, and if they will change their behavior because of this.

It’s very likely that I will need some kind of rehab for my arms. It will probably be very unpleasant, but the only way to move is forwards. Most people with a conscience would also feel some pity for me. I always see so many protagonists that hate being pitied. Well, RIP to them, but I’m different. I’m gonna milk that pity for all it’s worth.

With this resolution in mind, I start planning for what must be done. I’d been putting it off until now, but this incident drove home the fact that I’m not infallible. And neither are my enemies. I will need failsafes on top of more failsafes if I want it all to work. It’s time to focus on the first order of business.

Killing Hojo.

  
  
  


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The next few weeks are filled with pain, suffering, and getting used to new additions to my routine. I was correct in assuming I would need rehab. The nerves in my forearms had been reconstructed from scratch, and needed some getting used to.

Rehab is hell. There is no easy way to get through it. It’s a monumental effort, both physically and mentally. It’s learning to use a whole new limb, and that hurts the body, and strains the mind. Not to mention the entire month I spent in bed rest, sapping away at my body.

All of the new nerves, muscle, and skin are on fire. It’s horrible, and I almost give up several times. I cry from pain and exhaustion _every damn day_. But there is no other option, so I keep going.

The other new thing is caring for the scars. I learn an entirely new routine of slathering everything in poultices and moisturizers, from mid-bicep to wrist, then bandaging, and then carefully putting on pressure sleeves, to keep everything in place. It’s honestly a bit annoying, but it needs to be done.

By the end of the following month, my nerves are far more manageable, and the skin isn’t constantly burning and screaming at me anymore. It’s not a hundred percent, but much better. I don’t think it will ever be, but that’s not a thought worth mentioning.

When I’m capable of it, I go around the tower, reassuring the people that actually care about me that I’m still alive and somewhat well. Unfortunately, all of my progress on cooking has gone down the drain, and I have to relearn everything from the ground up. That turns out to not be nearly as much of an issue as I had assumed. The kitchen staff are all very understanding, and agree to help me get the basics down again.

My caretakers are still precious sweethearts, and I’m getting _so much sugar_. They even corroborated with the kitchen staff to bake me an absolutely wonderful cake, when I finally finished rehab. I readily admit that I cried when it all hit me.

Being appreciated, being genuinely liked like this is a relatively new thing for me. I decide right then and there, no matter what, I’ll make sure these people have all the security and happiness I can afford.

Hell, even Sofia has been changing her whole demeanor towards me. She’s still skittish, but not nearly as much, and she doesn’t look at me like I’m some kind of monster in disguise anymore. She _really_ caught me off guard one day, when she actually patted my head after I did particularly well in rehab. I was so startled, I didn’t even call her out on it. Just stared at her, mouth agape, before remembering my manners, and smiling at her.

I pretended not to notice how much her hand was shaking.

Oh, yeah! Another thing that has me slightly miffed is that, with all the fire in that explosion, my hair is… well… pretty much gone. The gorgeous mane that reached my hips was burned, and after a much needed trimming, it’s now just past my shoulders, with rather short bangs.

I felt something die a little inside me, when I first saw it. At least it grows ridiculously fast, so I don’t need to worry too much. Looks like I’m stuck to ponytails for a while.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The next time I see Hojo is for a check up on how the enhancements work around the injury. This time, though, my assigned medical staff, including Nurse Lyndsay, and the current caretaker, Mr. Madsen, are here to supervise. Needless to say, Hojo is very close to having an aneurysm. I would be laughing inside, if I weren’t busy having a mini panic attack every time the fucker gets near me. I can _feel_ how angry he is, and how much unethical shit he wants to do to me. I’m genuinely scared he’s gonna abduct me in the middle of the night, when only the Turks are looking.

For now, though, he only takes samples. Blood, muscle, and skin. He tries to take a large sample, but one of my doctors clears his throat and looks at him threateningly. Hojo looks miffed and backs off. It really shouldn’t look as funny as it did.

It’s certainly not funny when he mentions stress testing me and my arms. Of course, everyone strongly disagreed with him, but that doesn’t make the panic disappear. Because this is Hojo. If he wants something, he usually gets it.

I’m scared.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Have I mentioned Tseng is a really cute baby? Because he is. An adorable darling. I want to baby him forever and ever. He comes by at least twice a week, with news from all over the company, and I’m so grateful. I mention my fear of Hojo and what the asshole might do, and he takes it all in with a very serious expression. I almost laugh at it, it’s so cute.

Oh, yeah. He’s hitting a growth spurt, so the baby fat is thinning out, which is kinda sad. But I congratulate him a lot, mentioning how very tall and imposing I think he’s gonna get. He straightens up his back and positively _glows_ when I do that, all while keeping a serene face. _So Fucking Cute_.

And he’s such a smart cookie, too. He noticed my discomfort around Veld, and actually asked the man if he could visit me alone. And I’m so, so very glad Veld agreed, because I was starting to have stress rashes, and those are really bad on their own, but in my condition, it’s even worse. Honestly, if it wouldn’t seem weird, I would have kissed his cheeks so much.

I end up learning a lot about him, tough, so I count it as a victory. Like the fact that he and his family came to Midgar just a couple years ago, as refugees from the border skirmishes in Wutai. Seems like Shin-Ra already started the war, only unofficially. Upon arriving here, they were met with prejudice and distrust, making so that they were stuck in the slums. Tseng himself became a rather proficient pickpocket, catching Veld’s eye, and prompting the man to bring him into the Turks. That had apparently been just a month before we met. He was so very red when telling me how very happy he was when that happened, because he thought he could finally have a friend. By that point I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and hugged him as tight as I dared.

“I’m really happy to be your friend, too, Tseng.”

We stay like that for a few quiet minutes, just taking in the moment. We separate when Santiago knocks on the door, bringing dinner. He notices both of us have slightly red eyes and wet cheeks, but doesn’t comment on it. Smart man.

Some other, less emotionally charged things I learned about him were that he loves seafood, but hates sashimi on the account that raw meat of any kind makes him queasy. His birthday is somewhere in late summer, though I can’t be sure about the exact date, as I don’t know if there are any differences in season placement between Midgar and Wutai. His favorite fruits are mango and jackfruit, which, hard same, those are amazing. His least favorite vegetable is wutaian broccoli, which I understand to be this world’s version of chinese broccoli, which, excuse me? That shit is delicious.

Wanna know the cutest, sweetest thing of all? One day, he said he’d loved how long and pretty my hair was, and wanted to grow it out just like it. Me, being the huge sucker for all things cute that I am, responded with something just as saccharine.

“Well, now we can grow it together.” I tell him with a shy smile that is all too sincere, and he flushes an adorable red, returning a brilliant grin.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


I find myself returning to the library at least once a week, to further cement Domino’s and Pizza Hut’s allegiance. These two can and will be instrumental to what I have planned, and I need them to be on board with it by the time I put it in motion.

It will take an effort, but this is one thing I can’t get careless in. For now I just need to indulge them, but when the time comes, I’ll need all the failsafes I can afford. Even if it means having to sit through these two bozos trying and failing to advertise themselves over Shin-Ra.

The lengths I go through for a job well done.


End file.
